


My Sword Will Never Pierce Your Shield

by PositivePumpkin



Series: Whumptober 2019 [4]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Human shield, IDK how else to tag, Im tired, Kidnapping, Other, Violence, Whumptober 2019, demon shield, im very tired, its so late, or i guess, temporary no powers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 03:50:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20901185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PositivePumpkin/pseuds/PositivePumpkin
Summary: Whumptober 2019: Human ShieldGabriel breaks into Crowley's flat and takes the demon hostage. Aziraphale obviously doesn't condone this.





	My Sword Will Never Pierce Your Shield

Someone was in his flat. Crowley knew as soon as he walked up to it. There was something different, a strange undercurrent in the air. Still, Crowley was nothing if not resourceful, and he’d rather spring the trap he knew than leave and let whoever was in there try and catch him out and about. After all, most of his time was spent with Aziraphale these days, and he couldn’t let anything happen to his angel.

With this in mind, he opened the door and walked into his flat. He kept his senses alert but pretended that he hadn’t noticed anything amiss. Instead, Crowley walked to his plants, picked up the mister, and began berating them. He certainly hadn’t expected his plants to rebel against him. He was grasped by clinging vines and dragged into the thick foliage as footsteps sounded behind him.

He turned, just as his view was obstructed by leaves, but he still saw. Gabriel. What the Heaven was the Archangel doing down here? And in Crowley’s flat no less? Surely after their little escapade in Heaven and Hell respectively, both sides would want to leave their wild cards alone? Crowley struggled against his plants, he thought briefly of conjuring up some hellfire, but he didn’t _actually_ want to hurt the plants.

No, he’d just have to play this one by ear.

“You’re not very smart,” Gabriel said, swaggering over towards the demon. He positively radiated Holier-Than-Thou vibes, which, to be fair, he was Holier than a demon, in only the strictest of definitions. He pressed a hand on the demon’s back, right between his wings, or where they would be if they had been physical at the moment. “You’d think with the way Aziraphale always talked you up in his reports that you would have seen this coming,” Gabriel snorted derisively, “but then, you two have always been close, haven’t you?”

Crowley was about to start snarking back at him, when his jacket, waistcoat, and shirt all disappeared. His stunned silence was disturbed when he felt a sigil being etched into his back causing him to scream. Holy symbols stung and burnt his back where they were being carved. They forced his wings manifest, but before he could attempt to use them in his defence, Gabriel grabbed one and _pulled._

Over his cries he could hear Gabriel chuckling to himself, amused to have the demon squirming, trying to pull away from the harsh grip on his wing. The plants relinquished their hold, and soon blessed ropes were wrapping around Crowley, burning his skin like a bad sunburn. Crowley continued to thrash, demonic form leaking through in the form of patches of black and ruby scales, eyes blown full Sulphur yellow, and fangs elongating in deadly fashion.

He couldn’t change fully into a snake, the sigils had bound his demonic power up tightly. Still what had managed to leak out remained and Crowley thought he might be to use that to his advantage. If he just got close enough, he could bite, inject his venom into the Archangel. It wouldn’t be enough to discorporate him, but it should buy him some time to get out of the ropes and warn Aziraphale.

Gabriel wrenched back and Crowley heard a sickening pop and tear as his wing was torn out of socket. While Crowley was still trembling Gabriel moved to the other wing and ripped that one out of socket as well. Some of his feathers had been pulled loose and flitted to the ground around him. The Archangel grabbed Crowley by the hair and wing and dragged Crowley to the office in his flat.

Crowley cried out and started cursing Gabriel out, using all of his imagination to come up with the most creative insults he could. Gabriel laughed at the throne sitting in the middle of his office and sat himself on it. Crowley was forcibly curled at his feet, still stringing along insults. Eventually the Archangel had enough and forced the demon’s mouth open and shoved his scarf in it. With a snap more blessed ropes wrapped around his head, keeping the scarf in place and burning the sides of his face.

Then, they waited.

Gabriel, of course had the patience of a saint, or in this case, an Archangel.

The phone had rung several times, Gabriel never answered. Instead he amused himself by ripping out feathers.

It had been nearly a week before there was knocking at his door and Aziraphale calling for him. He tried to warn the angel, but he was still delirious from pain and the gag made it impossible to do anything more than groan.

Aziraphale had eventually decided he wasn’t going to be kept waiting and let himself in. The mess of feathers and blood was enough to cause the angel to worry. It took a moment to find them, what with the hidden wall keeping the demon’s office secret. The sight greeting him would haunt Aziraphale’s dreams, had he ever slept. Crowley’s holy burns had begun to blister, and his wings were almost completely plucked.

“Hello, Aziraphale,” Gabriel said, his hand was resting on Crowley’s head. The poor demon looked rough, his hair a mess and his face covered in burns and blood. The blessed ropes were covered in pus from broken blisters and there were feathers sticking to him covered in blood. Gabriel, however, looked impeccable as normal, minus the hideous purple scarf he normally wore.

“Gabriel,” Aziraphale gasped, his hand clenching around nothing once, twice, and then his sword reappeared in his hand. His eyes glowed with fury and his wings fluttered into physicality and raised high in anger.

“Now, now, Aziraphale, let’s not be too hasty,” Gabriel grabbed Crowley and held him in front of the Archangel. Crowley was in pain, but even still he tried to pull away. He tried to growl but it came out a garbled mess with the gag.

Aziraphale however, wasn’t listening. He had been a guardian to the gate of Eden. Just because Eden was no longer a place on Earth doesn’t mean he was no longer a protector. He levelled the sword at Gabriel, despite him using Crowley as a shield.

Aziraphale was once a Cherub, before he was demoted to Principality. While not as high ranking as the Archangel Fucking Gabriel, he had been forged and made to guard. Once he has chosen something to guard, nothing was going to hurt the people or things he loved.

His multitude of eyes began opening all over, all glowing with anger. Aziraphale’s halo manifest as he lunged forward. Gabriel certainly wasn’t expecting this, and he tried to leverage and move Crowley into the way. Despite the situation, Aziraphale wasn’t holding back.

The former Cherub swung with precision, he avoided Crowley with skill and regularly nicked Gabriel. Aziraphale was sure and accurate with each strike. When the opportunity presented itself, he sliced the ropes off of Crowley. In response, the demon twisted, pulling Gabriel forward right into Aziraphale’s blade.

Aziraphale leaned in close, every eye regarding Gabriel coolly, “now then, off you go.” He jerked, bringing the blade out just enough to jut it back in on the upswing into his heart. He waited and watched as Gabriel choked on his own blood and discorporated. Once Gabriel’s body turned to light and ash, he dropped the sword and ran over to Crowley.

“Oh, oh no, Crowley, look at me dear,” Aziraphale gently took the blessed ropes off and removed the scarf from his mouth. He soothed the holy burns as much as he could, while he couldn’t heal them, he at least could numb them. “Oh, my dear, Crowley, my sweet boy,” Aziraphale moved around to look at the torn-up wings, “my dear, this is going to hurt, clench your teeth, please.”

With a blessing muttered under his breath, one by one he popped the wings back into their sockets. Crowley bit back a scream and Aziraphale’s heart broke. “Oh, my dear,” the angel murmured, “here, let me get you to bed, so you can rest. Don’t worry, I’ll keep watch.”

While Crowley was asleep, as he hadn’t been able to stay up long once his wounds were numbed, the angel picked up all the feathers, cleaned up the blood, and soothed the traumatized plants. The plants of course, were certain they wouldn’t live long after the demon woke, but Aziraphale assured them that wouldn’t happen.

Aziraphale began laying wards around the flat, thinking about how this wouldn’t have happened if they lived together. If he had perhaps been more insistent about seeing Crowley when he missed their regular meet up. If he had noticed when Crowley, who had barely let the angel out of his sight for more than an hour, was no longer hovering over him. It wouldn’t happen again. Aziraphale would make sure of it.


End file.
